


Decent School, Naughty Boys

by strayCat



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-19
Updated: 2012-03-12
Packaged: 2017-10-27 13:39:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/296444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strayCat/pseuds/strayCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is only one person in the whole school that can make John Watson lose his mind...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Lesson In Self-Control

There was a knock on the door and only seconds later, Sherlock Holmes entered the classroom. He didn’t even seem to hear the teachers words, her complains, when his eyes flickered around the classrooms, searching for an empty seat.

_Don’t._

But Sherlock had already taken a few steps in his direction and fell into the chair beside him with a deep sigh.

Johns heart sunk down his chest and he swallowed hard.

_Not just now._

Sherlock Holmes, beside him, stretching his legs under the table and slowly unwrapping the long black scarf from his unbelievable long and pale neck.

Sherlock Holmes.

The only person in the whole shool that could make him, John Watson, lose everything.

He would never admit it, of course.

And he always kept distance.

But now this.

Only a few seconds later, a wave of Sherlock’s scent hit him with unexpected strength. His eyelids started flickering.

_Damn, Watson. Control youself._

He closed his eyes for a few seconds and took a deep breath. He had never smelled this before, a mixture of sweat, cigarette smoke and something else, something undefinable.

Pictures of bare sweaty skin and strong finger gripping into wet hair floated his mind and gave him instant goosebumps.

He quickly opened his eyes and looked around nervously as if anyone could have read his mind. But everybody was still listening to the words of the teacher, which John didn’t even notice anymore.

He was unable to think about anything but Sherlock, _Sherlock Holmes_ , sitting so close beside him that he could almost feel the warmth of his body on his own skin.

He had to fight the urge to move his hand a few centimeters to the right over the table so that it would touch the other boys arm.

_What are you even thinking about?_

Instead, he took another deep and audible breath, leaned back and crossed his arms in front of his stomach.

He felt felt a sudden swift turn beside him and Sherlock’s eyes sliding over his face, his hair and slowly down the rest of his body.

A highly visible glance, he didn’t even try to hide it.

_Don’t turn around. Don’t. Look._

John knew that if he would turn around now, his face so close to Sherlock’s, he would not be able to control himself anymore.

_Not anymore? Who are you trying to trick here, Watson?_

He turned the other way, towards his teacher, whose words came to him like through a dense fog.

He was completely aware that if Sherlock would speak now, anything, just a _whisper_ , it would take the last of his self-control away.

_What has he done to you?_

The ring of the bell hit his ears and he needed some seconds to realize what it meant.

Everybody started to put their stuff together but John just sat in his chair, his eyes closed and his heart pounding in his chest.

Suddenly fear flooded his mind.

_It’s over._

All around him, people stood up, the sound of scratching chairs over the floor and the loud rustle of paper brought John back to reality.

Sherlock grabbed his bag, slipped out of his chair and around the table in just one smooth move and took a few large steps towards the door.

When he stepped out, he turned his head around just a little and John looked directly into his silver eyes. Was that a smile around Sherlock’s thin lips?

But before John could even finish that thought, the other boy had already disapeared.

_John Watson, get yourself together._


	2. A Course In Seduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock knew. Of course he knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by the wonderful Helen aka tyowynn.tumblr, as this fanfic has become a project for us both in which we alternate in writing the chapters. Because I wrote the first one, here is hers, from Sherlock's point of view. Enjoy! :)  
> ...or, as Helen would like to phrase it:  
> "Abowlofpetunias's EPIC oneshot A Lesson In Self-Control got continued because TyoWynn decided to write stuff while watching the HOUNDS episode.  
> Then they decided to continue it and call it the "Decent School, Naughty Boys" Series and use Aristotle's drama writing scheme and make it 120% more PORNY."  
> (and that pretty much sums it up)

Sherlock knew. Of course he knew, after all, he was master of deduction and logical conclusions.

Really, the last math lesson had only proven his theory further. Actually, it wasn't a theory anymore. It hadn't been a theory since three weeks now, when he caught John Watson looking at his bloody arse in Sports class.

John Watson was in love with him. Or in lust.

The way his pupils widened, the way he blushed, the tilt of his head when he looked away and the tension in his shoulders.  
It was obvious. He was again surprised how stupid the others were. Or how stupid Watson was if he thought he could _hide_ it by _looking away_.

He wasn't prepared, however, for the ways that knowing changed things.  
And if he found himself throwing subtle, and by that he meant _really_ subtle not normal people subtle, so, if he found himself throwing subtle glances in Watson's direction then he obviously did that to make sure his deductions were still right.

It was not as if he was _interested_ in Watson.  
Watson, with his repressed homosexuality and his longing for acceptance from his peers, his desire to live up to his father’s expectations, his football mates and his stupid, stupid beaming smile.

And when the faceless bodies he usually imagined while wanking suddenly got a bit shorter and had blond hair, well, that was obviously related to the fit guy in the centrefold of the naughty magazine he had bought a few days ago.

He was _not_ interested in John Watson, why would he be. That is, why would John be interested in him?

His reputation at the school was not the best. People called him a "freak" and a "faggot" and other nasty words not only behind his back, but to his face.  
Well, at least they saw that he was different. Because he was, he was "special". Way more intelligent than the others.

Why would John develop a crush on a social outcast like him?

Sherlock knew that he wasn't wrong, the evidence was practically screaming in his face.  
So when he was smoking by the bike stand on a Friday afternoon and John came there to fetch his bike it was obviously a coincidence.  
It was not as if he knew -  
Oh who was he kidding, of course he knew. Sherlock knew.

And he had decided to seduce John Watson behind the school, near the bike stand. To be sure, to be sure he was right.

He was more confident he was right than that he could pull of the seduction, but still.  
He knew what to do in theory; he had read books, watched films. It would work.

He was leaning against the wall in a way he knew looked attractive, the angle in which the sunbeams hit his face highlighted his cheekbones and made his eyes glow, he wore the tight purple shirt that made John's breath catch when they passed each other in the hallways and the cigarette between his lips -

The instant John came around the corner and saw him, he froze.  
He looked at Sherlock with wide eyes and dropped his bag. Sherlock was amazed.  
The flush that spread on John's cheeks, oh, the delicious curve of his lips as John gaped and couldn't take his eyes of the strained buttons on Sherlock's shirt.  
It was brilliant, it was glorious!

Sherlock smirked.  
"Hello, John Watson", he drawled.


	3. A Study In Rejection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “John Watson, during the last couple of weeks I observed that you have developed a certain sexual attraction towards me. The feeling is mutual and I’d very much like to kiss you now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, we are trying to be fast with publishing new chapters so here it is, the third one, written by me again this time. *hint* It's the one where finally something happens. We hope you enjoy! :)

The dull sound of his bag hitting the ground brought him back to reality.  
 _Shit._  
He quickly looked around to see if someone had noticed his embarrassing loss of consciousness, but there was no one near except Holmes. The last students were just leaving through the school gate -John had had to stay after English lesson to talk to his teacher. All his friends had already left the school grounds.   
He didn’t dare to look up to Holmes’ face, but he could picture the smirk – he had seen it on that gorgeous face so many times before.  
 _You are behaving like an utter idiot, Watson._  
He kneeled down and began to collect the books and pencils that had fallen out of his open bag.  
“Can I help you?”  
John still hadn’t said anything.  
Sherlock had pushed himself away from the wall gracefully, dropped his cigarette, grinded it out and was slowly moving towards him.  
“I’m sorry if my presence has... _distracted_ you.”  
 _Good heavens this boy has some nerves._  
John could practically feel Holmes staring right at him, into his mind, reading everything, _knowing_ everything.  
“Wait, let me get that for you.”  
John had heard Sherlock’s voice plenty of times before, it was deep and silky but never had it sounded so rough and husky yet incredible attractive.  
“I...uhm...no, sorry...I mean you don’t have to...”  
Holmes was kneeling down beside him, his shoulder only slightly touching John’s. Not enough to be taken as a direct invasion of his personal space but certainly not a coincidence.  
“I insist.”  
Helpless confronted with this situation, John decided to keep his mouth shut before another embarrassing stutter could come out of it.  
Sherlock picked up Johns planner from the ground and held it towards him, but it took John a moment to realize this because he was distracted by those pale, slender fingers and the thought of _what they could do to him..._  
“Uhm...Thanks.”, he brought out without looking up to Sherlock’s face which was so close, _so close!_ to his own.  
Suddenly he felt pressure under his chin and his head was tilted upwards softly by two of those long and surprisingly warm fingers, forcing him to look directly into Sherlock’s eyes.  
“No need to thank me, Johnny-boy.”  
Sherlock was gazing at him in like a predator, like a snake would look at the rabbit in front of it.  
John let out a surprised gasp, unable to make a clear to think clearly, not even about the nickname he had just been given.  
Sherlock’s eyes were wandering down John’s face and finally rested on his slightly parted lips, his facial expression soft, wanting.  
Out of a sudden, John remembered where they were and the realization of what was happening hit him with a strength that made him jerk backwards and land painfully on his backside.  
“Ouch! Wa-what...”  
 _Seriously? The stutter? Again?_  
He picked himself up, his legs still weak, nearly shaking.  
“John, are you alright?”  
Sherlock stood up as well and looked at him, concerned.  
“Yes. No! I mean - What the hell are you doing?”  
 _And why, for god’s sake?_  
Unexpectedly, Sherlock made two large steps towards him, grabbed his shoulders and looked directly into his eyes.  
“John Watson, during the last couple of weeks I observed that you have developed a certain sexual attraction towards me. The feeling is mutual and I’d very much like to kiss you now.”  
If John had been holding his bag during that moment he would have dropped it again. But since that was not the case, he just opened his mouth instead; unable to form a clear thought, let alone a clear sentence.  
The silence between them seemed to last for hours, but it actually only lasted for a few seconds. John could hear Sherlock’s breath going heavily, could sense the mixture scents of sweat and cigarette smoke, could see his flushed cheeks and in his eyes...  
 _Is that a spark of fear?_  
The silence was broken when Sherlock began to move his head forward, slowly, as if he was not sure yet, as if he was waiting for permission to do what he intended to do, to take what he wanted to take.  
And then John didn’t care anymore. He didn’t care that they were standing right behind the school in broad daylight, visible for everyone who could be passing by.  
He just closed his eyes and felt Sherlock’s lips on his, a pleasant prickle spreading over his face and Sherlock’s smile.  
It was a brief kiss, soft, like a tentative test, but when they parted they both needed a moment to recover.  
 _I’ve kissed Sherlock Holmes. No, he kissed me. Sherlock Holmes. A kiss. He kissed me. Sherlock Holmes kissed me!_  
It was like a loop in John’s head.  
Eventually, Sherlock spoke again.  
“Want ...some more?”  
“Oh god yes.”  
And from this moment on they weren’t able to hold back any longer.  
Sherlock grabbed the collar of John’s jacket and roughly pulled him closer while John’s arms flew around Sherlock’s neck, his hands clenching into Sherlock’s hair.  
When their lips met this time, there was nothing gentle about it anymore. They stumbled backwards until John’s back hit the wall of the school.  
The kiss was long and deep and although it was obvious that both of them didn’t have much experience, their lust and desire -and enthusiasm- made it all up.  
Their bodies were pressed together but still moving, trying to find a position in which they had the most contact, John’s hands restlessly moving through the dark and Sherlock’s hands trailing down to grip John’s hips, pressing the hard bulge in his trousers against John’s abdomen.  
John felt the fabric of his jeans rubbing painfully against his own crotch.  
 _Sherlock Holmes, rock hard because of me, John Watson..._  
There were too many complicated feelings associated with that thought to continue it.  
 _But we can’t- ... not here- ... not behind the school...everyone could see..._  
Suddenly Sherlock’s lips left John’s mouth and went to his neck, kissing, sucking and probably leaving love bites.  
John moaned in surprise.  
“Sherlock!”  
“I want everybody to see it, John.”, Sherlock brought out between kisses, “I want them to see that you are _mine._ ”  
John’s head fell back against the wall, he was gasping.  
“I own you, John Watson. I fucking _own_ you.”  
 _What...?_  
“Admit that you’re mine and that no one else will ever have you.”  
 _No...!_  
“Say that I own you, John. _Say it!_ ”  
“No!”  
Sherlock stumbled backwards, out of surprise, but also because John had pushed him away firmly.  
He looked bewildered.  
John straightened his jacket and stepped back from the wall.  
“I don’t know what the fuck you are up to, Holmes.”  
His voice was trembling.  
“But I’m not yours to experiment with.”  
He grabbed his bad from the floor and swung it over his shoulder.  
“And you don’t _own_ me; you’re never going to, so just forget it.”  
His anger in his voice was audible and he walked past Sherlock without looking at him.  
“John.”  
 _If he follows me, I will ignore him._  
But Sherlock didn’t follow John.  
As he walked out of the school gate, John could feel Sherlock staring at him, but he didn’t turn around.   
Not once.


	4. An Exercise In Persistence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The “Seduction of John H. Watson” had been one of Sherlock’s more pleasant and successful plans, to be honest. Why had it gone wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have been keeping track, you will know that this chapter was written by Helen again. In which Sherlock is a sulking 9-year-old. Excuse me, nearly 17 years old. We hope you enjoy! :D

When Mycroft came into his room; Sherlock was curled up in the big, comfortable armchair. He was gazing out of the window, stroking the grey cat in his lap with an absent-minded expression.   
Mycroft approached him silently and stood beside him, looking out into the garden of the Holmes’ manor.   
“What do you want, Mycroft?” Sherlock asked brusquely.   
His brother’s presence annoyed him; he had more important matters to think about. John. How was he going to –  
“I take it the tryst with your little crush didn’t end well, then?”   
Without looking, Sherlock knew that Mycroft was smiling. In what ways did Sherlock’s love-life matter to him? Sherlock could do well without his annoying older brother meddling, he really could. What had happened on Friday had just been a small… miscalculation, no need to worry about that. Watson was going to come crawling back to him on Tuesday, probably.   
Hopefully.  
“Poor Sherlock, you have always been so difficult about suitable behaviours for a decent boy. Now you’ll learn, won’t you?”  
Mycroft was always parading around, as if he was bloody omniscient, as if he was the king of England only because he was going to University now. Sherlock loathed his behaviour.  
“Why don’t you leave me alone? I don’t need your _help._ ” Sherlock sneered.   
What was Mycroft even thinking? He buried his hands in the cat’s fur. He was going to show that meddler, he could handle this on his – Suddenly, the cat let out a shrill screech and scratched him.   
“No need to get aggressive, brother dear. I’m sure you’ll figure out how to get your _boyfriend_ back.”   
Sherlock only scowled harder. That tone in Mycroft’s voice, he was teasing him, mocking, implying that he would have done it better. Mycroft would probably have arranged a date with John instead of bloody attacking him after school. But Sherlock’s method had worked, too, hadn’t it?  
“ _Fuck off,_ Mycroft!”  
“I sure it will all end up well, Sherlock. Don’t worry too much.”   
Now Mycroft was speaking softly, gentle, as if he was speaking to a small child. But Sherlock wasn’t a toddler, he was nearly eighteen. An adult.  
He didn’t want to be patronized!  
“Leave. Me. Alone.” He was staring at Mycroft now, angry and defiant. He was furious – How dare that imbecile tell him what to do, treat him like a child! Oh, he was going to get John back, he was going to show Mycroft –  
“I will.”   
Mycroft was smiling again, raising the corners of his mouth in a way he though looked secretive. Actually, Sherlock found this expression ridiculous.  
“I just wanted to ask you not to disturb me the next few hours if you decide that you want to confide in me after all. A friend from University is coming over, and we’re working on an… important project together. If you have any questions, you know where exactly in the library mommy keeps the… intellectually stimulation romantic novels. I’m sure they will provide you with the necessary information for your case.”   
Sherlock rolled his eyes. He knew just which friend Mycroft meant. Project, of course. He turned towards the window and began to reconsider his options. The cat was purring again, and Sherlock found it a rather calming noise.   
He didn’t hear Mycroft leave.

The “Seduction of John H. Watson” had been one of Sherlock’s more pleasant and successful plans, to be honest. Why had it gone wrong?   
Could it have been due to Sherlock’s lack of experience? No, probably not. His research had been extraordinarily thorough, and John had shown no signs of discomfort.   
In fact, Sherlock could remember that John had seemed to find the whole thing a very enjoyable experience… At least after the first shock.  
But to Sherlock, that had appeared rather cute.   
The stutter and the blushing… and luckily John had been too distracted by his embarrassment to notice Sherlock’s own discomfort.   
Seducing someone wasn’t as easy as it seemed, Sherlock thought. What if John wouldn’t have liked his kisses and the way he had touched him? It would have been… discouraging, if not to say horrible.   
But John had responded amazingly. He had kissed Sherlock back hungrily and grabbed his hair and touched him and it had been so… extraordinary.   
Why had Sherlock not known how brilliant kissing and touching and all those seemingly stupid physical things could be?   
Thinking back, he was a bit ashamed of his behaviour. Maybe he had been too straight forward? But Sherlock needed to kiss John, needed to touch his face and his back and his arse, to make sure John was _really_ there and this was _really_ happening and that it wasn’t just another unsatisfactory wet dream.   
Now that he had had a first taste of the enigma that was John Watson, Sherlock wanted more.   
John’s rejection was impossible, inacceptable, and Sherlock was going to try again, again and again until he could be sure that Watson was his and his alone and maybe he could invite him over and show him the gardens and the bacteria cultures hidden in the greenhouse and the dead owl he had found recently. Maybe John would like that, and maybe they could make out some more and maybe he could give John a hand job while leaning against the old oak and -   
Sherlock was going to get John back.   
He was going to show Mycroft that he could find himself a boyfriend as well; he was going to show the world that he was definitely not a “freak” and he was going to kiss John again. Often. In fact, Sherlock found that the possibility of a more… permanent arrangement sounded rather pleasing.  
He would be able to kiss and touch John as much as he wanted, and maybe they could even hold hands...  
Sherlock had always thought of that as a very uninteresting option – he needed two hands to experiment, to gesticulate and to defend himself - but now that he had experienced closer contact with John (and his hands), it seemed… nice.   
Determined, he looked down at the cat in his lap. She glared at him because he had stopped petting her, but Sherlock didn’t care.   
He was full of enthusiasm, he had a new plan, a better one, and John would be his. It was going to be brilliant!   
Sherlock grinned.   
“Soon you will get to know a new friend. I am positive that you will like him very much… Oh, Mrs. Hudson. The Game is on!”  
And with that, he took the bewildered cat and put it down. (What kind of family called their cat “Mrs. Hudson” Anyway? That hadn’t been Sherlock’s idea. At least he thought so.)   
She sat on the floor, looking a bit offended – Why had the petting stopped? – and watched him stride out of the room with a manic grin on his face. 

The first step of Sherlock’s plan was a visual approach.   
He smirked at John when he saw him in the corridors or in class, he smiled, he winked, on one occasion he even waved, but sadly it didn’t seem to work. John was persistently ignoring him; acting as if Sherlock wasn’t there. Had he really been _that_ offended?   
Initially, Sherlock though that the first step would be sufficient, but when after two days there still hadn’t been any success _at all_ , Sherlock decided to start the second phase of his plan.   
The second phase had a combined structure: Now, Sherlock was smiling and winking while trying to _talk_ to John.   
He walked up to him and said “How are you today?” or “Nice weather, isn’t it?” or “Hello, Sweetie!” when he saw John in between classes.  
He tried to catch him alone, he even manipulated the math teacher to pair them up in class but it just _didn’t work_. The only reaction he got from John were angry glances – but John’s sister Harry showed her gratitude by beating him up and an interrogating him afterwards. It was disappointing, really. 

Even Mummy had noticed that something was wrong when Sherlock snapped at Mycroft for the third time at dinner. Although it was, Sherlock thought, understandable – Why couldn’t Mycroft stop talking about his _amazing_ university friends and generally looking smug?  
That night, Mummy came into Sherlock’s room. Sherlock had heard her footsteps on the stairs and instantly knew what was going on: Mycroft had told her a somehow abridged version of the story and now she wanted to give him some “maternal advice”. Or possibly comfort him, only that would be even worse.   
When she opened the door, Sherlock was already in bed, pretending to be asleep. He was not going to talk to his mother now, not in his current state. John would see the light soon, hopefully. It was only a matter of time until they would be together and…  
The light from the corridor falling through the open door flooded Sherlock’s dark room.   
“Darling, don’t worry. I’m sure your crush will go out with you if you only ask them nicely.”   
Sherlock was lying with his back to the door, so that his mother couldn’t see his face. He rolled his eyes. Of course.   
Couldn’t they leave him alone? This was _his_ plan, his seduction, his “crush”.   
Only because he was out of options now didn’t mean he wasn’t going to succeed. He was sure that he would have a brilliant idea soon, probably tomorrow. No need to worry, no need to interfere.   
“But if you’re too shy to do that, maybe you could write them a love-letter instead? Your father used to write me letters. I was always ecstatic and very touched... just don’t give up now, Sherlock. You’re such a nice boy.”   
Sherlock could hear the sentimental tone in his mother’s voice; she always talked liked that when she remembered their deceased father.   
After she had closed the door and went downstairs again, Sherlock rolled onto his back. Actually, a letter didn’t sound that bad… He could tell John everything, write about the things he wanted to do to him and the things he wanted to show him and –   
But what if John showed it around or told Anderson or Sally?   
It didn’t matter, Sherlock was desperate now.   
It had been almost a week since he had kissed John, and he needed to do something. This problem was not going to solve itself, and maybe Sherlock had to give up a bit of his pride. He had to take the risk.   
He was going to write John Watson a letter, and he was going to tell him about his feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't expect so much nice feedback on this story and I think I can speak for Helen, too when I say: Thank you very much we highly appreciate it! :3 Are you ready for the final chapter? (To be quite honest, Im not.)


	5. A Detention For Indulgence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It doesn’t matter how much I want you, it doesn’t give you the right to handle my like your property. I don’t want to be some sort of private toy for you that you can drop when it gets too boring.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! I'm sorry it took me so long and I don't want to bore you with a lament about a writers block so the rest of the notes will come at the end. Enjoy! :)

John was sitting in a secluded part of the library. Now, in his free period, he was finally able to read the letter he had found in his bag after the first lunch break. Thinking back, he hadn’t been able to sit still after discovering it. It was from Sherlock, and he had almost ripped the expensive-looking envelope whilst opening it. John was practically bursting with excitement now, but he tried to unfold the letter carefully.  
“Dear John,” it read.  
John had hoped Sherlock would stick to his ridiculous verbal attempts to contact him, at least for a while.  
“I am writing this letter because for some reason you are not responding whenever I try to get in contact with you.”  
 _Smartass._  
John couldn’t believe Sherlock hadn’t yet figured out why he was not responding. Wasn’t it obvious?  
Because he was angry, of course! Sherlock clearly had to learn a lesson. Insecurity didn’t disappear when one masked it with pride, and after the initial fury had worn off, John knew why Sherlock had said those words. Sherlock had overreacted in a very arrogant but actually insecure way.  
When he had John where he wanted, he wanted more and needed proof that he could take that from John. Instead of just bloody asking him out like a normal person would! Sherlock Holmes was a lunatic, John thought to himself.  
Still, having tasted this lunatic’s lips, John had a hard time resisting the urge to Sherlock Holmes right away in the middle of the school, in front of everyone.  
“Our encounter behind the school has left me thinking about my emotions in relation to you, especially during the last days.”  
 _You mean our senseless snogging followed by my rejection has left you gobsmacked and lovesick._  
“I don’t think that I made clear what I expected you to understand, and I apologize if I offended you with my strangely-worded demand. It was not what I wanted to express, but in the heat of the moment my mouth betrayed me.”  
 _This is getting interesting, he even apologized._  
John was grinning, his strategy to get Sherlock to give in had been successful. Good.  
“I want you to know that if you wish to do the same, I would like us to be in a mutually exclusive agreement that allows such interaction as kissing, intimate meetings and a sexual relationship.”  
 _God, does he have to sound so scientific?_  
Still, John was kind of amused by the way Sherlock had described his emotions. The words were guarded, Sherlock did not want to be hurt and John could tell.  
“I don’t know if your attraction is still the same, but since I have now clarified my feelings towards you, I can assure you that my intentions are completely sincere.”  
No, John’s feelings were not exactly the way they had been a few days ago. Additional to his attraction to Sherlock there was now and anger about the latter’s behaviour.  
It didn’t matter how fond John was of him, how much he was longing for more kisses - That didn’t make him Sherlock’s property. John wanted to be more, not just an experiment to Sherlock, a random bloke Sherlock could use to proof to himself that he could have someone, get someone to like him.  
On the other hand, the way Sherlock was now craving for his attention turned John on. He wanted to be _wanted._ He just didn’t want to be _owned._ That was the difference Sherlock had to learn, if he really wanted to go out with John. And god knows John had definitely plans towards going out. This letter was the final sign that there was hope for it and anyway, John was fairly sure that he would not be able to hold back any longer. The last days had been torment but he knew that he had to stay adamant. Now, Sherlock had given in.  
“This is my last attempt to get your attention. I truly hope you will respond because the current situation is confusing and unsatisfactory for both of us, and you know it. I will leave my mobile number at the bottom of the page, if you prefer to text.  
Sherlock Holmes”  
 _Is that...? Yes. Yes it is._  
John took a closer look at the paper. The letter had been written in pencil first, which had then been erased after it being re-written in ink. At some points, a part of the original writing was still slightly visible because of the force with which the pencil had been pressed to the paper.  
In the empty line between the signature and the end of the text, someone had had fiercely but unsuccessfully tried to rub out something.  
The word “Love, “was still visible, and only the paper had been damaged.  
John repressed a giggle. He wasn’t angry that Sherlock hadn’t kept the original version. The whole love letter that had turned out certainly more cautious than planned, and it was very cute.  
John tried to picture Sherlock writing the letter: Crouched on his bed, paper in his lap, his face glowing in the faint light of his bedside lamp, he would probably be chewing nervously on the end of his pencil.  
He had thought about John the whole night, about the kiss, about John’s body, maybe he had gotten himself off on the thought of –  
 _God, I need to stop. Or rather, get that boy now before I need a serious trip to the bathroom and my free period is over..._  
John got his phone out of his bag and started to type.

Boy’s football locker room, in five minutes. JW

He entered the number on the letter and pressed ‘send’ without hesitation. Leaving the library and walking down the corridors in a hurry, he checked his pocket for the key ring. The locker rooms wouldn’t be in use and therefore locked in this free period. As a member captain of the team he had access and would now use them for... personal matters.  
Rain blew in John’s face and he hunched his back as he stepped outside the school building and began to run down the path towards the football field. His mind was racing; all he could think about was Sherlock, what he was going to say now, how he would look…  
From a distance he could already see the slender figure leaning against the small, white building, the collar of the coat turned up and half of the face buried behind a dark blue scarf. There he was.  
When John was only meters away, Sherlock stepped back from the wall and lifted his chin. He was meeting John’s eyes, seemingly confident.  
“Let’s talk inside.”  
John’s voice got carried away by the wind but Sherlock nodded shortly and followed when John finished fumbling with the keys and finally opened the door.  
After closing it behind him, Sherlock turned around.  
John was standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, unsure where to look. Raindrops were drumming on the small window, but the silence between them was thick, full of yet unspoken words and hesitation.  
“You are enraged.”  
John looked up and met Sherlock’s eyes for the first time. Sherlock took a few steps forward, until he was closer to him. He had that incredulous look on his face, his mouth was opened a bit and his hair was wet and John couldn’t look away anymore. Sherlock was so… beautiful, for lack of a better word. Stunning and bloody sexy without knowing it.  
“Your breath is shorter and faster than usual, your heart rate presumably increased, your pupils are dilated. You are... aroused?”  
“Yes.”  
“I arouse you?”  
 _Yes. And I would very much like to get to the kissing part. But I can’t, not yet._  
He took a step backwards, away from Sherlock.  
“I don’t understand John. You confuse me.” There was an almost pleading tone in Sherlock’s voice, and he was staring right back at John, his eyes flickering all over Johns face, clothes and body.  
“Yes.”  
Sherlock raised his eyebrows, questioning. John’s voice grew louder.  
“Yes, you do arouse me, Sherlock. My god, have you ever looked into a goddamn mirror?” His words echoed from the tiled walls. Meeting Sherlock now, maybe it had been too early? John was once again furious, and Sherlock was being unnecessarily difficult.  
“What’s the problem, then?” Sherlock sounded smug, and John knew it was because he had just admitted that he was attracted to him – but that was not what he wanted to talk about now!  
“The goddamn problem is that it doesn’t matter!”  
Sherlock flinched, but John was just getting started.  
“It doesn’t matter how much I want you, it doesn’t give you the right to handle my like your property. I don’t want to be some sort of private toy for you that you can drop when it gets too boring.” John was shouting again, and the echo in room sounded empty and cold. He knew that his words could possibly be hurtful, but why didn’t Sherlock understand?  
“John, I –“  
“How would I know how much I mean to you? I can’t read you like you can read me, Sherlock!”  
The anger in John’s voice began to fade, but his heart was still pounding in his chest. Sherlock’s eyes had grown large and his expression seemed almost desperate.  
“I’m sorry.” He said quietly. “I didn’t want you to feel like this.”  
John tried to control his breathing, in, out, slowly; he was going to be calm now. He closed his eyes for a brief moment.  
“I didn’t know you would be affected so strongly. I got carried away, I never had... it felt so...” Sherlock trailed off. After a moment, he found himself again.  
“I know that you wanted me but I never thought I’d want you just as much. I thought I was prepared, but I was not. What I said in the letter – I mean it. I never had these feelings before but I’m certain of them now.” He seemed relieved that he had brought that out, but unsure of John’s reaction. A few seconds went by before John began to speak.  
“So you have never felt... not even with, uhm, ...others?”  
Sherlock clearly had expected anything but this.  
“John, I had never before... I mean, you were the first...,” he blushed.  
Now John was the one who looked bewildered. “You are kidding me.” He felt a spark of Triumph – He, the ordinary John H. Watson had be the first person to kiss the impossible Sherlock Holmes, the first person Sherlock had fallen in love with.  
Sherlock didn’t reply. He felt visibly uncomfortable.  
“Oh god, where the hell did you learn to kiss like that then?”  
Sherlock looked right into John’s eyes and smirked, but then he suddenly seemed self-conscious and a small blush appeared on his cheek. Suddenly, John burst out laughing.  
“You are not... angry?”  
“No, you tosser. I just needed to get this off my chest and make sure you meant what you wrote.” John smiled. “And you obviously did mean it.”  
“So you still want...it? I mean, do you still want me?” Sherlock added hastily.  
John took as step forward and slid his arm around Sherlock’s neck.  
“You can’t even imagine how badly I want you right now.”  
He pushed him backwards on one of the benches on the wall and crawled onto Sherlock’s lab, Sherlock’s hips between his knees.  
 _If I wait any longer I’ll go insane._  
Sherlock was looking up to him, his lips slightly parted and wet and John lowered his head and let his tongue slip between them. The kiss was deep and it felt so good, so good, John couldn’t believe he had lasted more than a week without this. To hell with self-control or dignity now.  
He slowly began to open the buttons of Sherlock’s coat and then got rid of his own jacket. Sherlock was holding tightly on to his hips.  
When John started to unfasten Sherlock’s belt and Sherlock hesitated for a second.  
“John,” It was just a breathless whisper. He looked at him, almost fearful.  
“I thought, -“John pulled back. “Sherlock, if you don’t want this, we don’t have to, we can just… kiss or go on a proper date first or…” This was important, and John was not going to fuck it up. If Sherlock didn’t want them to do this right now, John would respect that decision.  
“No! I just mean, I never have, you know... I thought you could just...”  
 _Oh._  
John continued opening Sherlock’s trousers. He slowly slid a hand inside and Sherlock inhaled sharply. “John –“  
“Just tell me how it feels, Sherlock.” He curled his hands around Sherlock’s dick and Sherlock moaned. “It feels... _hmm_...feels good...”  
John smiled and took his hand out again. He grabbed Sherlock’s waistband and Sherlock understood.  
He lifted up his hips and John pulled down his trousers and underwear. When he couldn’t get it past Sherlock’s knees and remembered that Sherlock’s shoes were still on, he abandoned the task and focused on Sherlock again.  
Sherlock’s neck and face were flushed and he tipped his head back against the wall when he saw John’s eyes wandering down to his exposed hips. John leaned forward and rested his forehead against Sherlock’s.  
“You are gorgeous, “ he muttered, but the only response he got was a moan because at that moment, he took Sherlock in his hand started moving up and down, slowly, carefully.  
He felt his body heating up, drops of sweat forming on his forehead. Suddenly, the air in the locker-room felt so cold – John got goose bumps and his skin became incredibly sensitive as Sherlock’s slender fingers held on tight to his upper arm. He felt his t-shirt becoming sticky with sweat, and it should have been gross because John liked to be clean, but Sherlock was all around him and it felt wonderful.  
“John you are– _ahhh_ \- marvellous.” Sherlock’s voice was a breathless whisper. John grinned.  
“Oh please, do go on.” he said mockingly, while his lips moved over Sherlock’s face, placing small kisses around his mouth.  
“Your eyes and _fuu...hng..._ your body, John, your muscles, the way I can always see them tense through your clothes... ”  
John was amazed that Sherlock was still able to form sentences, he had his eyes closed and his body was shivering underneath John. “You were watching me?”  
“Yes, _oh god yes,_ I needed... I wanted...”  
“What do you want, Sherlock? Tell me.” Sherlock groaned and his eyelids flickered open again, he was gazing at John intensely, although the usual clarity had seemed to disappear from his light blue eyes.  
“ _More._ ”  
John was so hard, and he needed something - palming himself through his trousers should have been enough, but it wasn’t. He had wanted to focus only on Sherlock, make him feel good and watch him and touch and kiss him in all the places he could reach, but it wasn’t possible.  
He undid his own tie and tried to deal with his jeans as best as he could, then he moved closer to Sherlock. This was one of the only advantages of being short, he thought – he could sit on Sherlock’s lap and kiss him at the same time.  
Although kissing was not what he was planning to do now.  
He took out his own cock wrapped his hand around himself and Sherlock at the same time. It felt good, so good to be this close to Sherlock, to feel them rubbing against each other.  
John could hear his own breath too loud in his ear, mixing with Sherlock’s. The air around them was warm and smelled of sweat and Sherlock’s scent. John buried his nose in Sherlock’s hair while he continued to touch them. He didn’t want to go to fast; it was so much already. Sherlock was muttering under his breath, chopped up sentences and words.  
“John, You… _Oh_ … So good, we are… Wait until you vis- Ahh, John, you… amazing… more, John, _more_ …”  
John had to smile beside the urgency he felt – Sherlock was so precious, and the way he said John’s name with that breathless voice sounded incredibly _intimate._  
Sherlock didn’t sound controlling anymore, and there was no talk about anyone owning anyone. It was just them, Sherlock and John, lost together in pleasure.  
John kissed him and softly bit his lowers lips as he started to move his fist faster around both their cocks. John knew it was all coming to an end now, and he needed it, but at the same time he found himself wishing it would never end. Just the present, now, being close to Sherlock. He didn’t want the moment to pass.  
His cheeks were burning and his vision blurred as if he had a fever, but he tried to keep looking at Sherlock, not blinking, just looking and it didn’t work because his eyes got full of tears and he had to close them, and how stupid was that?  
Sherlock was mumbling John’s name and making desperate, breathless noises, while his hands moved restlessly through John’s hair.  
Suddenly, there was a sharper intake of breath from Sherlock and he came, his hips buckling up, thrusting harder into John’s hand. John could feel the fluid warm running down his palm but he couldn’t see, and then he was coming as well there was nothing but the feeling of Sherlock next to him and Sherlock’s breathing and their shared warmth and Sherlock’s hands in his short hair.  
John went limp, he couldn’t support himself on Sherlock’s lap anymore and he just leaned against Sherlock’s chest with his head on Sherlock’s shoulders and tried to catch his breath again. He felt sensitive everywhere and sticky and full of sweat. It was uncomfortable, and he needed to get up now but Sherlock was _there_ and he smelled so good. Still, John resisted the temptation to bury his nose in Sherlock’s shirt and never get up.  
After a few more moments, he lifted his head. His hair was sticking in all directions by now and he didn’t even know what time it was. Hopefully they weren’t going to be late for the next lesson… In the state they were in, John doubted that they could go anywhere right now.  
“That was...fast.” The first adjective that came to his mind. He was a bloody idiot; of course it had been fast. They were teenage boys, they wanted each other, what would one expect?  
Sherlock was panting, and his eyes widened.  
“I’m... sorry John, I –“  
“No, I didn’t mean it was bad! In fact,” John kissed him gently, “It was good. _Very_ good.”  
Sherlock exhaled hearable.  
“I just think we should... clean ourselves up now.” He wanted to shift, but Sherlock reached out and held him back.  
“John?”  
“Hmm?”  
“So this is... something definite now.”  
“Yes.” He smiled.  
 _Oh yes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pfuuuuh, there it is, our last chapter! We have written it together, that means Helen did not only do the beta but also added whole parts of the story. We are really proud of our whole work, it's practically our first real fanfic and we hope you enjoyed it as much as we enjoyed writing it. :) Let us know your opinions in the comments, we are always happy about feedback!


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